Face Reveal 1
Yeah, I know, I’m a tease. So be it. No worries, you’ll see Alex’s entire face on Monday.
I’m basing some of this storyline on a chick I dated way back yonder. Clothed, she was a smart, sassy, flirty gal with a bangin’ body and a mind of pure snark and intelligent awesome. We flirted about for about 4 months. But although she was forward (and how!) when we went on our first real date, things progressed, and we ended back at my place. And suddenly, when it got to that “taking clothes off” point, she was a bit shy. It took some reassurance to get her clothing off.
Seems when she was a young teen, her abusive dad, who was a hardcore evangelical, hated her “slutty” ways (wearing tank tops and short shorts), and literally poured a bottle of rubbing alcohol over her, before lighting it. (He went to prison for this.)
The burns weren’t HORRIBLE, but they were evident. I’ll be honest here: getting her naked was more intimate than nearly any other experience I had in my 20s. She wasn’t crippled, and she didn’t look like Freddy Krueger. She just had… scars. Lovely, interesting scars. I let her know they weren’t a turn-off for me. I enjoyed kissing them. I enjoyed that she let me see her that naked. I felt honored that she would put that level of trust in me.
I doubt she reads this comic. It’s been a lifetime. We didn’t date long – fracture in the relationship due to her religion. Last I heard, after we split, she was doing missionary work in some Asian country.
But in the event that she DOES read this:
Meagan? This one is for you. I hope you’re doing great. Drop me a line if you read this. It would be cool to catch up.
Not the same gal, but with similar scarring:
This reminds of my classmate, who knocked over a cooking pot as a kid, his arm was a mass of scar tissue with bandage texture on his shoulder. Interestingly, my own burn scar that I had for most of my childhood (I accidently pressed my leg in shorts to the exhaust pipe of freshly parked motorcycle) vanished by the time I grew up.
We’ve all got our share of scars of one sort of another. My childhood scars (hell, even my smallpox vaccination scar) are long gone, covered with new skin through some magical process that still amazes doctors. The 4″ incision in my calf is nearly invisible, the 2″ divot in my shin is growing new skin on its own (again, amazing the doctors), the burns on my arm and chest (fireworks incident) are long gone, even the marks on my chin and brow from a beating I took once are almost healed.
Some scars aren’t so evident. My biological father used to love belittling people to get them to do what he wanted. Actually, to be honest, he still loves doing that. I just don’t allow him near me any longer, so I don’t have to tolerate his nonsense. I have an intimate understanding of several scientific and IT related careers, I’m an amazing chef, I can drive anything with wheels or track (and you’d be hard pressed to keep up with me), I’m an expert marksman, a decent gunsmith and a savvy businessman. My IQ is well above what most people consider ‘damn smart’ (180+). And yet this man persists in telling people that I’m an idiot, a failure, a useless human being. As a child, he tortured me because of my snoring. Never once has it occurred to him, ever, that snoring like that could be a medical issue (it is).
I bear these scars proudly. I can survive him, I can survive anything any other, subpar douchebag can dish out. And so can anyone else who stands firm and refuses to put up with the bullshit.
You are a credit to resiliency, to the power of self! Thank you for sharing that.
That hover text is deep. Well done J.
I wish there was a way the hover text would appear on a mobile device, ala XKCD. Having to wait weeks to get home to my laptop so I can get the rest of the story is annoying.
I agree. And I only have to wait a few hours to get home if I forget to check FTF before heading for work.
I dig chicks with scars. Scars are evidence of surviving.
In college I dated a girl who had been in a bad car wreck, heavy scarring on her arms (she needed to wear a special silicone sleeve to “guide” the healing scars), and a huge vertical scar on her torso from emergency chest surgery to find and fix massive internal bleeding. She was embarrassed for me to see them at first, but eventually became more comfortable, in big part because I didn’t smother her with pity. I also discovered that the scar from her navel to between her breasts was ticklish as all hell. I suggested that when everything had healed completely, she tattoo the scar green with leaves and thorns, and a big red rose between her breasts. Whether she ever did or not (haven’t seen her in 25 years), I like to think she came out of our relationship a little more confident again.
In motorcycling, there’s a woman named Brittany Morrow, the Road Rash Queen. After a horrific motorcycle accident wearing next to no gear, she is now a famous advocate for what’s known as ATGATT; All The Gear All The Time. She has turned her scars and her life into a teachable moment. http://themotolady.com/rockthegearbrittanymorrow/
The SNELL foundation certifies (not makes) the safest helmets on the market. Wheels, skis, horses or just wearing tight pants and fighting other grown men over who gets to hold someones ball, look for the SNELL certification. Remember kids:
You got a ten dollar head? Wear a ten dollar helmet.
http://www.smf.org
There has been some arguments about motorcycle Snell ratings lately. You have to pay to get the ratings, and the non biased research done on helmet testing showed that making a tougher helmet in order to get the Snell rating, will transfer more force to your head. DOT rating differs very little from Snell ratings on helmets anyway*. A cheap DOT rated helmet is a world away from no helmet (while you save up for a Snell) and it might even be better than a Snell helmet.
*Differences are the place of impact on the temple, and a Snell is tested twice in the same spot. (requiring a harder helmet) According to the HURT report, hitting your helmet in the same spot during an accident is extremely rare.
The Euro standards for helmets seem to make better sense. IMNSHO.
The Snell rating on Motorcycle helmets doesn’t pass muster for Auto Racing – there are two Snell standards for brain-buckets. The ability to NOT scrub away when applied to concrete (a nasty M-cycle example) is what car racers do not need to be concerned with. <– I am an ex car racer.
I have (also) had bikes for 40 years and I have always used a Snell certified AUTO helmets because they are designed to absorb impacts to the head, better.
Jim
Twice in one spot? That’s bullshit! Your motorcycle helmet is not going to need to protect you from another impact on the same spot in your journey from the site of the accident to the nearest place you can buy a new helmet. Kevlar military helmets stay on and keep taking the shell splinters. Motorcycle helmets take one impact and get replaced. Expensive, yes, but then so’s brain surgery, rehabilitation, lifelong care …
Snell- What a wonderfully US-centric view!
If you’ve made it to adulthood without any scars, you’re probably not that interesting.
I DIDN’T WANT THESE FEELS TODAY!
I had a friend who had lost her eye to a farm accident. She believed it made her hideous. So she hid that side of her face under her hair, much like Alex. One day I got to see her truly naked, with all of her clothes on. What I saw truly shocked me. She had a glass eye, and a barely visible scar. She had made the scar into a hideous dis-figuration, and the glass eye into some monstrous device in her own mind. I think she had just gotten so used to it being a blight that she thought it got worse over time. But the real scar she had was inside. She was beautiful in every way on the outside, but inside she believed she was ugly.
T-Cat,
Thirty years ago I had a lady friend who lost one fingernail do to a slammed door during an arguement with her boyfriend. Before this happened, she had hands and nails that should have been photographed to sell jewelry at Macy’s. She went into a major funk and started to use cocaine, but (fortunately) she was busted by the big bad Cops before she damaged herself. With some therapy, she fell back and regrouped and whet I call ‘phony glue-on’ fingernails made her “whole” again. She’s okay to this day.
Jim
Well done. This is my favorite so far.
At 47, I have quite a few scars. Some are from silly or stupid stuff, like scraping a couple of layers off on a nail head, or from catching feral cats in the barn. Others are from major surgeries or real injuries. The later show that I am still alive, and are victory marks.
I swear, I will NEVER ride without my gear….
Spot-on, TX
I have almost 40 years of experience riding on the road and I have had some very close calls but I have never dumped or been dumped (there is a difference). A little bit of leather to protect instead of bare skin is cheap insurance … ugh … I have seen ugly bare skin wrecks on Interstate-5.
Jim
I got dumped … by the wind. Riding on the left in the UK, north on the M6, turning off to take the road between Glasgow and Edinburgh up towards Sterling. Heavy wind from left the whole way, and a rucksack. As I turned left onto the exit ramp, I went into the lee of a small hill. The turn of the ramp went from left to right. The wind went from left-to-right to right-to-left. Heavy bike. New rider. Didn’t know how to countersteer. Wheels hit kerb and bounced. Bike dropped on left side. I slid the on hard shoulder, left my arm behind on the kerb and hit the guard rail.
Got help getting my rucksack off. Saw my left hand. Thought: “How am I going to get my bike home with my wrist that badly broken?” Focused. Took glove off. Put glove on. Checked bike. Stood it up, got on it, rode to town, bought new helmet, rode to Fort William, parked, set up tent, slept, got up, climbed Ben Nevis, came back down, had shower … and saw the state of my left arm. Black and purple from collarbone to wrist where it had smacked the kerb. May have cracked a couple of ribs.
I was wearing denim. One knee of my jeans got shredded and the skin got grated underneath. Took a while to pick all the pits of grit out, but it healed. When I got home, I got leathers. Even in Spain in the summer, which looks like this …
http://www.anyclip.com/movies/high-plains-drifter/
… I wore leathers, stiff, thick leather armour. Sod riding in denim.
Shit like this is why I don’t want to ride motorbikes as much as i want to drive cars. Also the lack of allure for me.
I figure that if i fuck up in a car then I have a greater chance.
Record temperature in Phoenix is 122 degrees. Heat stroke probably ain’t no picnic, either. You don’t see many fully kitted-out riders here in the summer.
You remember the pipeline break in 2003? I only had my bike at the time, no cage. Sitting in line for gas was far more painful without my JR mesh jacket, evap vest, and full lid, due to not having the sun beating directly on my skin.
I rode here without my jacket once… ONCE. As soon as I got home and indoors, my arms broke out into gigantic blisters. Fuck that noise; I never again rode without all my gear, no matter how hot.
Well played sir, well played.
Can she even see out that eye anymore?
the song by Garbage “Bleed like me” comes to mind with this, (granted it is more about self mutilation, but the chorus at the end still gives me chills)